


Snippets of Life

by Fantom_of_the_Fiction



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantom_of_the_Fiction/pseuds/Fantom_of_the_Fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know, Nat has naturally red hair. She likes to lay in bed on rainy mornings. She has this spot on the back of her neck she likes me to rub.</p><p>You know, Clint's hands may look hard and tired, but I have only ever known them as soft and warm. And he seems to like to fall asleep on his stomach. And he has this ridiculous habit of stopping for coffee everywhere we go.</p><p>Clintasha Drabbles with a story line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by this: lettiebobettie.tumblr/post/24790338444/you-know-nat-has-naturally-red-hair-and-she

You know, Nat has naturally red hair.

She and I were out on one of our first missions in Saudi Arabia. We had just finished dealing with a raging mad scientist living underground in his laboratory and we were walking toward the place where a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter was going to pick us up.

As we were leaving, a bomb went off just inside. If we hadn't been where we were when it happened, we would have been blown to bits. Acting on instinct, I grabbed a hold of Tasha and covered her body with mine. The force of the explosion sent us flying forward about ten feet, but I held onto her for dear life. Thinking back on it now, I think I did it for her life, not mine.

When the rubble and sand stopped falling was when I finally let go of her. I took a moment to assess the situation and check the damage. My knuckles were bloodied and I was covered in bruises and smaller scratches, but that was it. She had a cut on her forehead that was bleeding, bruises, and a few scratches here and there, but nothing too serious.

I looked around us and saw a burnt white lab coat under a boulder a few feet away. I crawled over to it and ripped a non-burnt piece off of it. I crawled back to Nat and lifted the cloth to her forehead and my free hand on the back of her head. Neither of us were worried about blood borne diseases. We had gotten used to each other's blood, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was always giving us new vaccines to prevent anything. Her green eyes watched the sky for the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicopter as I wiped away the blood that had begun to trickle down the side of her face.

When most of the bleeding stopped, I took the bloodied fabric away. I kept my other hand on her head, playing with her soft red hair between my fingers. I had never really given much thought to the color of her hair, except that it was distractingly vibrant and it could give away our location. Of course, it never did. After all, she is the Black Widow. She never gets caught.

I looked at her face as I had done many times before, memorizing it. For the first time, I really paid attention to the color of her eyebrows and eyelashes. They were just as red as her hair.

"The helicopter is here," She said as she stood up, "C'mon, we'd better hurry." She extended a hand to me, which I graciously accepted.

'Huh. So she really is a natural red head…' I smiled to myself.

And she likes the snow, but she loves the rain.

Iceland's got some pretty snowy winters. Oh yeah, we were totally warm when we were all bundled up in some nice skin tight camouflage uniforms. Not.

We were scaling a mountain during a blizzard when it started to get intense.

"Tasha, we need to find a cave or something and wait out the storm." I shouted to her over the roar of the wind.

"We've got twenty-four hours to complete this mission, Barton. We don't have time to wait it out. We don't even know how long it'd take to infiltrate the place. It could take the rest of the twenty-four hours we have!" she called back.

"Tasha, think about it logically. It's getting really hard to see out here and I don't know about you, but I'm freezing my ass off, and I know you are, too."

"No, Barton. If you keep complaining I'm going to drop you right here and now. You know how I feel about complaining, especially when it's coming from a grown man."

I grumbled under my breath, but we continued on.

Finally, we reached the mountain peak.

"Where do you suppose this place is? Fury said it was-"

"Right there." She pointed to a patch of snow.

"Why the hell do you think it's there, Nat? That's a pile of snow!"

She turned to me, "I was trained in the Red Room when I was a child. They taught me almost everything I know, even how to find something in the snow."

I knew she didn't like talking about the Red Room, even if it was just a few words, "All right, I'll take your word for it." It's no use arguing with her.

. . .

We stood on the large balcony that overlooked half of Iceland.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Clint?"

"It is. It's like a completely different world out there."

"It's so pure, innocent, untouched…"

"A rare treasure."

"There's one reason why I like the snow. You know what that is?" she turned her gaze to me.

I shook my head.

"The shape of the flakes. They're so intricate and detailed. I'll never understand how they're made." She held out a hand and let a few flakes fall onto it.

"I have a theory. There are little tiny hawks up there in the clouds," I pointed to the gray sky above us, "They have little magical powers that allow them to create such detail in one snowflake."

She laughed, "You're so full of shit." She couldn't hold back the smile that made its home on her lips.

"You wound me, madam," I said with mock hurt, "It's true, though. I'll always believe it, even if you don't."

"Let's contact S.H.I.E.L.D. now. You were right, it is freezing here. Thankfully the storm died down while we were in there."

I nodded and spoke into the comm link in my uniform, "Mission completed. Black Widow and Hawkeye requesting early pickup." Someone, probably Hill, responded with an OK.

As we were making our way back up to the mountain peak, Tasha told me, "It's too bad raindrops don't have design on them. I love the rain more than anything."

She likes to lay in bed on rainy mornings.

She lay next to me on my hospital bed, holding my hand in both of hers. She rested her head on my shoulders as she looked out the window at the raindrops running down the glass.

She felt warm against me as I gained consciousness. I knew that she could tell when she squeezed my hand. I wasn't ready for this moment we were sharing to end yet. She sensed it, and didn't leave my side.

"Clint," she whispered, "It's raining."

She would always tell me when it was, even if I already knew.

"Do the raindrops have designs on them?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Mmhmm," she responded. I felt her smile against my shoulder.

"I told you so." I said, finally being able to say that.

She has this spot on the back of her neck she likes me to rub.

"Clint, are you awake?" came a soft voice from my doorway.

"Now I am…" I said groggily, "What's up?"

"This is… embarrassing… but I can't sleep."

"And?" I asked, confused and out of it.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"What?" I said, wondering if I had heard her correctly.

"You heard me, numb nuts. Move over." She commanded as she made her way over to my bed.

"Uh- alright." I complied. I didn't have much of a choice, seeing as if I refused, she would move me herself, and I knew that she was more than capable of doing it.

I lifted up the covers, "Come on in."

She crawled in next to me and curled up into a ball, facing me. Once she was settled, she set her green eyes on me. I scooted closer to her and put a hand to her face. She smiled into my hand as I made small circles on her cheek with my thumb, her eyes never leaving mine. I pushed a stray curl out of her face and moved my hand to the back of her neck. Her eyes started to droop when I started to rub a certain spot on her neck.

Soon enough, she was asleep. I kept my hand on her neck, and with one final look at her sleeping face, I also drifted back off to sleep.

And she particularly enjoys candle light.

We were sneaking through an old castle in Kasteel Well, The Netherlands one night. It was an easy mission: Some idiots were smuggling some of Stark's weapons for Odin knows why.

Gun and Bow at the ready, we hid behind a large pillar just outside the room we heard noises coming from.

"Ready? Three…"

"Two…"

"One." We said in unison. We burst through the door, probably scaring the shit out of the guys inside. One of them was so startled that he accidentally pulled the trigger on a huge ass gun he was holding and hit the guy across from him square in the forehead.

I let one of my arrows go- not an exploding one, just a regular one cause I didn't want to waste my awesome arrowheads on amateurs like them. It hit one and sent him crashing to the ground. I got another arrow ready, then realized that there were none left standing.

"Couldn't let me get two of 'em? Wow, you're selfish." I said playfully as Tasha put her guns back into her holster. She smirked at me, "Hawkeye and Black Widow reporting in. It's clear, you can send them in." she said into the comm link at her shoulder.

Within two minutes, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were collecting Stark's weapons and carrying them to the helicopter.

We took our time walking to the helicopter, finally getting a chance to look at the castle.

"You don't see this every day, now do ya, Tasha?"

"You sure don't. Oh, look at all those candles! She walked over to a fallen candle light chandelier, "I wonder how old they are?" She said, pulling one out of its holder.

"Why are you taking one?"

She picked up a candle, "It's a candle from the Netherlands," she said as if it was the most uncomplicated thing in the world, "I'm going to add it to my collection. Come on, let's go debrief Fury."

And she likes to dance, but not when anyone is watching.

I went food shopping one day. I never do that. When I say never, I mean never. Tasha always goes because she tells me that I don't know what kind of food to get. She once told me that if I even went food shopping, I'd come back with three hundred dollars worth of coffee and cookies. I don't see why she gets to mad about that. I mean, she goes food shopping and comes back with three hundred pounds of coffee. I swear, her mind works in strange ways.

Anyway, she had written me an extremely detailed list of each type of food to get. I'll never admit it to her, but I'm extremely grateful that she did. It was a lot easier to choose the correct cereal when she wrote that it's "The family size box of Frosted Mini-Wheat Cinnamon Streusel – dark green strip on top of front of box with the Mini Wheats mascot on the left and 'excellent source of fiber' written on the right. Kellogg's is written under the mascot. Frosted is written in an arc above 'Mini Wheats' and 'Cinnamon streusel' written underneath on a brown banner." If she hadn't, she would have literally killed me for bringing back a completely different cereal.

I had finally finished shopping after three hours. It took half an hour to check out and five minutes to unload it all from my car and bring it up to our suite at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters and another half an hour to figure out where it was all supposed to be stored.

Naturally, this wore me out. I started up the coffee maker and set out two mugs. I took off my shoes and carried them up to my room, and when I got to the top of the stairs I was surprised to see my door open down the hall. Nat wasn't known for going into my room, nor was S.H.I.E.L.D known for letting an intruder within 100 miles of the Headquarters. Then I thought that I might not have closed it before I left, which was odd because I distinctly remembered doing so.

I stepped quietly across the hallway and when I was halfway down the hallway, I heard music coming from my room. It was just loud enough for me to hear that it was Tasha's favorite Russian song. My shoulders relaxed as I breathed a sigh of relief. I walked to my room but stopped as soon as I saw something I never thought I would see.

Natasha was dancing.

Not only was she dancing, but she wasn't listening to the song. She was singing it.

Not only was she singing, but she was singing and dancing while wearing one of my black t-shirts.

I leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight because it might not last long.

She twirled and lunged and grand jeté'd for ten minutes and did all sorts of moves that I couldn't even begin to name. It was really an unforgettably beautiful scene.

Sadly, the scene ended as she opened her eyes as she twirled and saw me standing at the door. She stumbled a bit and gained her composure, putting on her best Black Widow poker face.

"How long were you standing there, Barton?" she said sternly as she moved a stray curl that had come out of her bun out of her face.

"Long enough," I paused, "Your voice is lovely."

"Thank you." She said professionally, "Did you get the food?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Yep. I've got some coffee that's probably finished by now. Want a cup?" I offered.

A smile finally crossed her face, "Is that even a question? I'm surprised at you, Barton." She winked as she passed me.

And when she is feeling tired and down, she likes to lay her head in my lap.

We had just cleared out an entire orphanage in Washington DC. Damn that was tough. I swear, if Baby and Toddler Carrying was an Olympic sport, Natasha and I would have tied for the gold. I needed to give her a quick lesson on how to properly hold a baby before we did, even though we didn't actually end up carrying them the proper way. But hey, what could we do? We couldn't just let them die from inhaling the Hydrogen Cyanide that was making its way around the air vents.

It sure took a toll on Tasha. We had to run in with gas masks on after we got the kids out to find the jackass who had decided it would be funny to try to kill off an orphanage. She wasn't used to kids and didn't know why they were all crying and wanting her to hold them. I had told her that she had saved them and they had developed feelings for her, like she was almost their mother. Almost. She had scoffed at the idea, but I could tell that she felt the slightest sliver of warmth and love inside.

We had decided that we would walk around DC and see the sights. We had been here before on S.H.I.E.L.D. missions, mostly to protect the president or some under cover things.

We took a walk through the International Spy Museum, laughing at all the stupid tricks and the false ways to spy so they could cover up how it really happened. Once or twice there was something that was exactly right, but I've forgotten what they are by now.

When it got dark, we went to this frozen yogurt joint called Zinga.

"What's up with all these frozen yogurt places nowadays? I see them everywhere. There's Pinkberry, Zinga, Frozen Fantasy, Sweet Frog…"

"I'm right there with ya, Clint. I get that it's healthier than ice cream, but why all the different ones? They could have just let them all be Zingas or something and call it a day."

"Do you suppose they're all run by the same company? You know, I bet that's what it is. They're brainwashing us, Tasha. I just know it!"

"Oh shut up and eat your frozen cow milk, you loon." She said playfully.

I responded in the only appropriate way possible: by scooping some of my yogurt with my finger and wiping it on her nose.

"Clint! You ass!" she laughed as she did the same.

"Oh you did not just." I said with dramatic attitude.

"Oh yes I did just." She responded with the same dramatic attitude.

"You're going to pay for that, Tasha!" I stood up and started to chase her around the Constitution Gardens.

Damn can that woman run. I finally spotted her in a tree, only because I had climbed one next to her.

"Found you!" I called out.

"Actually, I believe that I am the one who has found you."

. . .

We laid on the grass looking up at the sky.

She laid her head on my lap, "Clint?" she asked me softly.

"Yeah, Tasha?"

"Do you think I'll ever be able to have a child?"

This question struck me with surprise, "Why do you ask?" I asked as I ran my fingers through her hair.

"The kids today got me wondering what it's like to have a family. I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember, and to be honest, it sucks balls."

"Well yeah, unless you were neutered way back when. I'm pretty sure most women can have kids." I answered honestly.

"No, you idiot. I mean… if I ever had a baby, do you think I would make a good mother?"

I thought for a while, really thinking about her question.

"To be perfectly blunt, I think you would be suckish at it in the beginning. But you've gotta get used to it. I know that you're really harsh and strict, but you've got a soft side. I haven't seen much of it, and I don't know how big it is, but I know that if you gave it time, you would figure it out."

"So that's a yes?" she asked with hopeful eyes.

I smiled down at her, "It's most definitely a yes."

And she sings Russian songs, and I don't understand them but I still love to listen.

Natasha has always looked completely gorgeous in ball gowns. It's too bad she doesn't wear them more often. If I had a say in the way her Black Widow uniform was designed, I would have made it look like a ball gown. She would have killed me, though.

We were on an undercover mission in Germany acting as a wealthy English couple that was visiting for our five year anniversary, going by the names of Roger and Alicia Huberman. She had always told me that whenever we had to act like a married couple I would be too loving and doting. I guess it's true, because I know that if I were to ever marry her, I would treat her that way. I wouldn't dare tell her that, though.

"May I have this dance?" I asked her as I bowed slightly and extended my hand.

"Why, of course my darling." She placed her dainty hand in mine and I led her to the golden dance floor.

"You look simply ravishing tonight, my sweet." I whispered truthfully in her ear as we slow danced. She was wearing a floor length white dress that puffed out at the waist just where a thick gold ribbon wrapped around her. She wore a golden flower in her hair that glistened as we moved across the dance floor.

"I do it for you." She whispered back. I could be wrong, but I could have sworn that I heard just as much truth in her words as my words had.

"This song is very catchy, don't you agree?" I asked, staying in character.

"It is very soothing. I recognize the tune, don't you? I've played it on the piano often." By piano, she meant iPod, though she'll probably never know that I actually have heard her play it on the piano.

"I do, in fact. It's Nochen'ka by Tina Karol, one of your favorites, is it not?"

"It makes me so happy that you remember, darling. Would you like me to sing it to you?"

"I would love to." I said, pulling her close.

As she began to sing, I realized that this was the first time that she had actually offered for me to hear her sing. She had the most beautiful singing voice. She mostly ever sang in Russian, and I loved the way her accent would come back when she would sing.

I'll never understand most of the Russian language (as I find it to be very confusing), but always love to listen to her sing it.


	2. Natasha's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by this: lettiebobettie.tumblr/post/26103799452/you-know-clints-hands-may-look-hard-and-tired

You know, Clint's hands may look hard and tired, but I have only ever known them as soft and warm.

Clint can be a real dick sometimes, and I've threatened to end his life more than once. I've come close to it a couple of times, but I've never actually been able to do it. There's just something about him. I always wonder if I feel the same way when that happens as he did when he was told to kill me in Budapest. He's a great partner and he keeps the mood lively and he's always willing to put his life on the line for someone else. He's done that on countless occasions for me, the last time being way back when we were on one of our first missions in Saudi Arabia.

He always pokes fun at me because the first time I tried out his Bow, I missed the center target just by a centimeter. He never forgets to remind me that he had hit the target spot on the first time he had tried it. Asshole. Of course he would never dare say it to anyone, especially not Stark. He'd never let me live it down, and I'd never let either of them live.

You know, you have to admire his skill. Clint is to Bows and Arrows as I am to Guns. He's so steady and focused. His hands are rough and calloused and they get all bloodied up on almost every single damn mission. For a guy in his position, he sure takes crappy care of his hands. I've had to bandage them up more times than I can even remember. His muscles are almost as big as Thor's, and he's jealous that Thor's got bigger muscles. He hasn't told me, but I can tell.

For an assassin, he's actually a real teddy bear. People generally find him menacing, as they should. But not me.

We were sent on a mission in Antarctica one time. It sucked. Thankfully it wasn't snowing too hard, but just enough that we had to bundle up some more in our uniforms.

I was freezing. We were heading to a glacier that had a passageway that led underwater and into some secret laboratory. It wasn't very well hidden, but then again, no one would exactly be looking for a metal door on the top of a glacier. He was trying to find the exact place where Captain America had been frozen for seventy years. He was apparently looking for DNA samples so he could collect whatever was put into his body to make him a superhero. Too bad the man didn't know that S.H.I.E.L.D. had already cleared all that out of there.

"Tasha, are you cold?" he asked me.

"I'm fine, Clint."

"No you're not, you're shivering."

"Well if you hadn't noticed, we're in Antarctica on top of a glacier. It's not exactly warm up here." I said as I rolled my eyes.

"Oh stop being so stubborn. I know you're not going to accept it on your own, so take my scarf." He had started to take off his scarf as I tried to stop him.

"Clint, I don't need your scarf. If I needed a scarf then I would have used the one they gave me. Come on, we've got to find this place so we can get out of here." I started to walk faster.

He would have none of it, and he had already taken it off. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, "Come on, Tasha. For me?"

"No. I told you that I didn't need it, so stop your worrying and let's go."

"Tasha, I know you. You're cold. We're going underground into a freaking glacier and probably under the freezing cold ocean. It can only get colder." He tried to reason.

"You're right, it's only going to get colder and you're going to want it back the second we get in there." I countered.

"Stop being stubborn and just take it. The faster you take it, the faster we can get in and get out."

I groaned, "Fine."

He smirked and moved closer to me. He pulled my hood down and wrapped his scarf snugly around my neck. His fingers brushed against my neck and face as he secured it. It sent a chill down my spine each time his skin connected with mine, but I blamed it on the fact that I had nothing protecting my head from the cold. Once he was finished, he pulled my hood back over my head and ran three fingers down the side of my face.

"Warm enough now?" he asked softly.

"Much." I said, just above a whisper. I cleared my throat and composed myself again, "Come on Barton, we've got an idiot to take care of."

And he seems to like to fall asleep on his stomach.

"You have seventy-two hours to complete this mission, Agent Romanov. Good luck." Fury handed me a manila folder containing the detailed information for our next mission.

"Thank you, sir." I walked out of his office and back to my suite that I shared with Clint. We lived together at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters because it was a lot easier to commute to work when you lived there.

"Clint, Fury's got us another mission!" I called out as I entered our suite, "Come down and I'll tell you about it."

I walked over to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker as Clint trudged sleepily down the steps.

"Why is he giving us a mission? Doesn't he know that I'm sleeping?" he muttered.

"He does, and knowing him, that's exactly why he did it. Come on sleepy head, I'm making some coffee and that'll help you wake up."

He grumbled something and fell onto the couch. I let him stay there until the coffee was done. I poured some into his coffee mug and some into mine. I tossed the folder onto his back and set the mugs on the coffee table.

"Come on Barton, wake up. Time to learn." I told him and messed up his hair.

"But I already graduated from learning I don't need to do that anymore."

"Well suck it up and drink your coffee." He took the mug from me and took a sip. He kept his head resting on a pillow but his eyes had managed to focus on me.

"Ready?"

"I guess." He tucked his arm under the pillow and rested the other one on his head, making himself comfortable.

I took another sip of coffee and opened up the manila folder, "Alright. Our target is a scientist in China who goes by the name 'Doctor Carp' who has combined his DNA with animals and they've mutated. He's letting them run wild in Nanjing. People have gotten themselves infected with this disease the mutations are carrying by coming in contact with their blood. They're not easy to kill, so we're going to have to destroy whatever is controlling them, which is most likely Carp." I took a sip of my coffee, "Are you following me so far?"

Clint responded with a snore.

"Of course you fell asleep. How could you not fall asleep?" I rolled my eyes at him.

It's not easy for me to look at Clint's sleeping face and not smile. He looks so young when he does. I leaned my elbow on the couch and rested my head in my hand, just watching him as he slept peacefully.

At some point I had fallen asleep with my head laying on his back and my arm draped across him. That's my little way of telling him how I've always got his back, no matter what.

And he has this ridiculous habit of stopping for coffee everywhere we go.

"Clint, did you have to wake me up to go to a coffee shop? What's your deal?" I asked him as he dragged me into a cute little coffee shop.

"I wanted coffee." I glared at him, "Come on Nat, it's coffee. It's like the unseen force that keeps the world moving."

"You're insane, you know that?" I laughed as he looked at the menu.

"I'll get a large peppermint mocha coffee thingy, please. Extra whipped cream and could you put some chocolate shavings on it? Oh! And I want one of those." Clint pointed at a cookie covered in powder. He looked like a child who was just told that he could order whatever ice cream he wanted.

"Of course, sir. Could I get your name?" the barista asked politely.

"Oh, yeah. It's Winged One."

"Is that a code name or something?" the barista giggled.

"Something like that. Your turn, Nat."

"And for you, madam?"

"I'll also have a large peppermint mocha coffee thingy with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings," I looked at Clint and winked, "And could you drizzle some caramel on top? And I'll also have a cinnamon swirl coffee cake."

"Name?" the barista asked, less politely to me, probably because I'm not an attractive guy.

"Lady Bug."

Clint snorted. I whipped my head around and roundhouse kicked him in the ass, knocking him to the ground.

"Sorry, you had some bird shit on your ass. Had a little accident, Winged One?" I said slyly as I stepped over him.

"Bitch." He said under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked, though I heard him the first time.

"Nothing, dear."

"I thought so."

. . .

We sat on the roof of the café and watched the sun rise.

"Awh, look. The cup says 'Say good morning to the one you love' on it." He smirked as he put his cookie between his teeth, "Want a bite?" he offered, though it sounded more like "Wanna bye?"

"Sure, is it good?"

"I donno, less figure i'ou."

He leaned over, still holding the cookie between his teeth. I looked at it skeptically but figured, why not?

I leaned over and we took a bite of the cookie at the same time, kind of like the spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp.

The rest of the cookie fell out of our mouths and into Clint's hand.

"It's tasty!" he said licking his lips.

"I never eat cookies, but it is really tasty. The rest of it might be gone if you don't look after it." I smirked.

"I'd know who ate it if it leaves that much evidence on your mouth."

"What?"

"You've got powder on your lips."

"Oh." I lifted my hand up to wipe it away, but Clint's hand got there first.

Without saying a word, he wiped it away with his thumb. He tasted like sugar.

"Um, thanks." I said awkwardly, turning my attention to the sun that was just peeking over the mountains in the distance.

We sat in silence for a while.

"Good morning, Tasha." He said warmly.

"Good morning." I smiled.

And anytime we need an alias, he likes using names from old Hitchcock films.

We were sitting at a train stop in New York, waiting for the train that would take us to Maine. Clint was dressed like an old fashioned detective with the dark brown coat and matching fedora. He sported a red tie that matched my hair color perfectly.

"Hey, we need to think of new names." Clint said randomly.

"You're right, I forgot about that. Did you have any in mind?"

"Hmmm…" The look on his face told me that he was going through a list in his head. Knowing him, it was his list of characters from the Hitchcock films, "I've got it! We'll be Richard Ashenden and Elsa Carrington. They're characters from Alfr-"

"Alfred Hitchcock's films, I figured. Any particular reason you chose these names?"

"I was going to tell you but you oh so rudely interrupted me, but I'll forgive you just this once. They're characters from a film called Secret Agent. I figured that they were appropriate, considering who we are. And why we're here."

"You've got a clever mind, ya know, Clint?"

"So I've been told." He said smugly.

"I hear the train coming. Let's get ready for this, Elsa." I joked.

"Elsa?"

"Yeah, Elsa. You don't expect me to go by the name Elsa, do you?"

He turned on his Southern charm, "Well we can't have a pretty lady walkin' around with a name such as Richard, now can we?"

"But sir, it's what mah dear old momma named me!" I said, turning on my innocent Southern Belle character.

"Ah'm sorry little lady, but I'm gonna haf'ta ask you to go by Elsa, or I might just haf'ta do somethin' to convince you otherwise." His voice turned uncharacteristically seductive as he closed the space between us, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Oh, well all right, ah'll change my name. But just this once, my good sir." I said playfully as I tipped the front of his hat down, blocking his lips from meeting mine.

And sometimes he doesn't want to talk, but it almost feels like we can have a whole conversation in silence.

I've never seen Clint cry before. He was a strong guy and knew that crying was a form of weakness. He was silent throughout the entire debrief when we got back from a mission. I had to literally lead him by the hand to our suite because he wouldn't budge. As soon as we set foot in the suite, he walked into the living room, switched on the fireplace and sat in front of it, hugging his knees to his chest.

I knew he needed some time to think, but he didn't want to be left alone. I pulled of my boots and tossed them at the bottom of the stairs. I padded over to him, my bare feet making little to no noise at all. I sat down next to him by the warm fire.

On our mission, we had to deal with the man who turned Clint Barton into Hawkeye, Jacques Duquesne, or as Clint knew him, "Swordsman."

Clint's parents had died when he was a child, just like mine had. When he was six, he and his brother Barney ran away from the orphanage to join The Carson Carnival of Travelling Wonders. The Swordsman had caught Clint's eye and took him as an assistant. Clint later found out that the Swordsman was embezzling money from the carnival, and before he could turn him over to the authorities, Clint was beaten and left for dead and the Swordsman skipped town. He hadn't heard from his brother since that day.

We sat in silence for a long time, staring at the flames. I don't think he blinked even once. Eventually, Clint got too hot and took off his black shirt and threw it behind him. This told me that he was getting over the initial shock of seeing his very first enemy since his childhood.

I began to rub his back, just between his shoulder blades. My spot is on my neck, his is just there.

He sighed and shifted a bit which was his way of telling me that he was ready to accept comfort. I made small circles on his back with my fingertips, which caused him to get goosebumps on his back.

He finally lifted his head and turned it toward me, resting it on his crossed arms. He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. When he opened his eyes, his eyes were watery and full of emotions. Rage, fear, regret, sadness. A single tear fell from his eyes and rolled down his cheek. Using the hand that wasn't making designs on his back, I wiped the tear away. I scooted closer to him and hugged him. He rested his head on my shoulder and eventually drifted off to sleep, safely wrapped in my arms.

But he can always make me smile, even when I don't want to, and I always find myself doing the same for him.

"I don't know why I ever agreed to do this."

"Natasha, you're going to be fine. If you can go on countless life threatening missions and put yourself in danger more often than Tiger Woods can find another woman to sleep with, you can wear a bathing suit in public." Pepper told me.

"It's going to come off in the water."

"No it's not and you know it."

"I'm exposing too much of my body."

"Are you serious, woman? It's a damn Marilyn Monroe bathing suit. The guys will be showing more skin than you will. Besides, we're on one of Tony's islands. No one except for the Avengers and me are going to see you."

"No one is going to take pictures of me, alright?"

"I'll make sure they don't. I'll take away Tony and Bruce's science toys if they do."

I turned to my only female friend with a hopeful expression, "You will?"

"I promise."

"Alright." I said reluctantly.

Pepper took my hand and led me out of the high-tech beach house.

"Hey, there they are! What took you so long, girls? Couldn't figure out how much skin to expose?" Tony said as he walked up to us.

"Tony! How can you be so disrespectful to these women?" Steve said as he came up behind Tony, obviously avoiding looking at Pepper and me in our bathing suits.

"He's an ass, that's why, Steve." Pepper said to Steve, glaring at Tony. She led me over to where the rest of the Avengers were gathered.

"Ah, Deadly One! Strawberry Hair! This is a lovely birch, is it not?" Thor boomed as he spotted us. He called me Deadly One because, well, I'm me. He calls Pepper Strawberry Head because of her strawberry blonde hair. When we had first tried to describe the color to Thor, he had been so confused that he ended up going back to Asgard to research it in one of their many extensive libraries.

"I think you mean beach, Thor, not birch. Birch is a kind of tree." I laughed as I corrected him.

"Ah yes, how very foolish of me. Come, enjoy this lovely food! But I must warn you not to eat the PopTarts, for those are the property of me." He warned.

"You don't have to worry about that, Thor. Tasha here doesn't eat sweets." Clint piped up.

Pepper let go of my hand and grabbed a towel. She spread it out on the sand and laid down on it, "If anyone tries to bother me, I'm going to personally make sure Natasha cuts your balls off."

Thor winced, "Why in Asgard would you have such a cruel punishment used on one of your loved ones?"

"Because I need to tan and if you keep talking to me, you're going to be the first one to experience it." That immediately shut him up.

I sat down in the sand next to Clint, "Hey, you."

"Hey," He smiled, "You look good in that bathing suit of yours. You should totally change your Black Widow uniform to a bathing suit. You could seduce the targets to death." He winked.

"Shut up or else I'll kill you that way." I glared at him.

"Ah, but what a way to die!"

"You're so full of shit."

"Seriously, you do look really good in it."

"I don't feel like I do."

"What? Why?" he said, obviously taken aback.

"I don't wear things like this. It makes me feel too much like a girl."

"Oh, come on, Nat. Everyone here knows that you're the exact opposite of a girl."

"I know that, but I just need to get used to it."

"Well get used to it fast, cause there are some totally rad and gnarly waves that are calling my name and I want to surf them."

"Totally rad and gnarly? You've been spending way too much time with Captain Virgin over there."

"What can I say? The guy's got class, not 'swagger' like Tony keeps claiming to have."

I laughed, finally feeling somewhat better, "If you get me a board, I'll surf with you."

"Righteous! Let's do this!" Clint stood up and held out a hand, which I accepted.

. . .

"Clint they don't suck, alright? You just gotta scrape off the burnt parts." I tried to get Clint to come to terms with the fact that burnt meat could taste good somehow.

"Nat, the entire thing is burnt! If I scrape it off, there'll be nothing left!"

God, he's so damn frustrating, "Clint, come with me. We're going to take a walk."

"No we're not, we're going to stay here so I can argue about the burnt meat."

"Uh, no, we're not. We're going to calm you down." I told him as I took his hand in mine and led him away from the smoking grill that Tony was in the process of de-smoking.

I walked quickly and didn't slow down until we were out of sight of everyone. By then, I wasn't holding a death grip on Clint's hand, but it was a gentle, friendly hold. We walked in silence right where the waves were washing up on shore.

Clint bent down and picked up an oyster shell, "Hey Tasha, I found an oyster."

"Really? I thought it was just a shell."

"So did I, but then I picked it up and discovered that it's whole. Should we open it up? Maybe it has a pearl."

I shrugged, "Sure." I sat down and pulled him down next to me. I watched as he struggled to open it. I didn't offer to help; he had already had his pride damaged enough with burning the food.

"I can do this, it's just really tight."

"I know you can, Clint. It's an oyster. It's not exactly the easiest thing to open."

After a few minutes, he managed to pry it open, "Ready? Let's see what this bro has inside."

We poked around for a few seconds before Clint felt something small and hard in the middle under a lump of oyster meat. He dug his finger inside of it and pulled out a tiny pearl.

"Wow, Clint. You actually found one!" I smiled at him, and he beamed right back at me.

"I'm going to make this into something for you, alright? And you have to promise that you'll wear it at least once." He put the pearl in the palm of my hand.

"I promise," I told him as I looked at the tiny pearl that Clint had obtained just for me.

Most of all, he likes me to hold him when he is in pain.

I never knew that forests could be so terrifying. I've ventured through plenty, one of them even resembling the Forbidden Forest from Harry Potter, which wasn't frightening in the slightest. But this forest is one that I don't plan to go even remotely close to ever again.

We were trying to find a child prostitute trafficker's shack, wherever the hell it was. We never figured it out though, because a bomb went off when we were in there looking around. It was a powerful explosion that knocked both Clint and me out. I fought against the darkness though, and I came to an estimated ten minutes later. The forest around me was in flames and Clint was nowhere to be found.

"Clint!" I shouted, "Clint!" No response, "Clint Barton you had better not be dead I swear to God-" it was then that I smelled the all too familiar scent of burning flesh, "Oh, no. No no no. Please don't let it be… Clint! Clint, where are you!" I raced around the area, following the scent of the burning flesh in a delusional state. The smoke was blocking my vision and I could barely see where I was going. Suddenly I tripped over something, "Dammit, stupid trees—Oh God, Clint!" I had tripped over Clint's body. I immediately crouched down next to him to check the damage. Dammit! He had a huge gash on his abdomen and it was bleeding profusely.

"This is Agent Romanoff, codename Black Widow, do you read?" I shouted into my comm link, "Agent Barton, codename Hawkeye has been hurt. Requesting immediate extraction. Coordinates unknown. Do you copy?" I nearly shrieked into my comm link. I didn't hear a response. "Shit shit shit shit shit I will shoot those asshats in the face if you die. Don't you dare die on me or else I will bring you back to life and kill you myself." I told Clint's limp body as I gripped his hand for dear life.

"Ta…"

"Clint? Oh Clint, thank God you're alive." I pulled his head onto my lap.

"Tash… hol… me…"

I didn't need him to repeat what he had said. I was already pulling him up more so he was resting in my arms. He didn't let go of my hand.

"Whas the… damage…"

"You've got a huge gash on your abdomen. It's bleeding pretty badly and you've got lots of burns."

His eyes filled with fear, "Tash… if this is the… end… for me… would you do me… a favor…"

"Of course, anything. I'll do anything for you."

"Kiss… me…"

Immediately, I dipped my head and my rough and bloodied lips met his. There was so much passion in that instant that I felt like I could kiss my life into him to let him live. His hand found its way into my hair and tugged at it. It ended all too soon as he fell back into unconsciousness.

"Clint? Clint, don't leave me. Don't you dare leave me!" I screamed, trying to kiss him back to life.

A tree came crashing down next to us, sending burning embers everywhere.

"We've got to get out of here." I tucked my arms under his shoulders and pulled and didn't stop.

I don't know how far or how long I had tugged and pulled and almost gave up hope, but eventually I got us to safety at the very edge of the forest.

I laid Clint gently on the ground and I fell to my hands and knees and vomited. When I was done, I turned to Clint and grabbed his hand. His face was the last thing I saw before I let the dark nothingness take over my body.

But no matter how much pain he is in, he will always do what he can to take away mine.

I sat next to his bed in the hospital listening to the beeping of his heart on the heart monitor. Each time I heard it, I was afraid that I wouldn't hear it again. But I did. I hadn't let go of his hand since I had woken up from my own state of unconsciousness and had actually gotten out of my own hospital bed and crawled into his. That was a week ago. I had scared off the hospital staff when they tried to get me to eat something, so they had to call in Fury. He couldn't do anything, and Agent Hill wasn't going to go near me, so the sent Agent Phil Coulson.

It's impossible for me not to listen to him, so he got me to eat that day and had me promise that I would eat whenever the hospital staff brought me food. He didn't get me to leave Clint's bed, so he had us transferred to a new room with a larger bed that I could share with him more comfortably. Coulson didn't leave us until the next day so he could make sure that I was going to be alright. When I was told that I could leave the hospital, I had Coulson get me a new change of clothes from the suite back at Headquarters. I had changed right there in the room, not bothered because Clint had seen me naked before and since we were the only two in the room, I didn't care.

There was no way in hell that I was going to leave his side, and it caused a pretty big scene. I had won, though. I've got S.H.I.E.L.D. and the famous Tony Stark on my side.

I was fiddling with the ring Clint had given me that had the pearl we found placed on it. The ring was a silver band with three diamonds lined up from largest to smallest on either side of the pearl. I took a closer look at the inside of the band and saw something engraved inside of it. Narrowing my eyes, I saw that it read the simple words 'Good morning, Tasha.'

Tears filled my eyes as I realized that in those words, he was telling me that he loved me. I looked at his closed eyes and was hit with a whole new wave of emotions. The tears that had found their way into my eyes spilled over. For the first time in a long time, I cried.

I cried for Clint, I cried for my parents, I cried for his brother, I cried for all the times he had saved me, I cried for the fact that he didn't kill me in Budapest, I cried for all the times I had nearly lost him, but most of all, I cried for myself. I didn't know what I would do if he died. I would probably take a suicide mission at S.H.I.E.L.D. If I came back from that mission alive, I would take another and another until I finally ceased to exist.

Over the sound of my own sobbing, I nearly missed Clint's voice say my name.

"Nat…"

My head immediately shot up.

"Clint?" I asked wearily.

"Tasha… Where are you?"

I crawled onto his bed from my seat next to it and put a hand on his cheek, "I'm right here, Clint. I never left."

His hand found mine and he held it, pressing it against his lips. He opened his blue eyes and looked into my green ones. Putting aside the fact that he had just regained his consciousness after a week, he slowly sat up and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm so sorry, Tasha. How can I ever make it up to you?" he asked sincerely.

"Just hold me close and never leave me."

And so he did.


End file.
